


Make Me A Promise

by Demenscous



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, One-Shot, One-sided pining, Scenario, Suppressed Feelings, gender neutral reader, reader doesn't put up with anything, reader is tired of Oikawa's bullshit, slight angst, slight mutual pining towards the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:01:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26602633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demenscous/pseuds/Demenscous
Summary: After Aoba Johsai's devastating loss to Karasuno, Oikawa struggles with understanding the limits of his body as he pushes to better himself. But now...he's pushed too far.
Relationships: Oikawa/reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 55
Collections: Haikyuu





	Make Me A Promise

You sat hunched over on the sideline bench, your elbows braced on your knees as you watched the boys run their practice. Over and over and over they would hit the ball, they would run, they would jump, they would toss and no one dared to stop. No one was spared from Coach Nobuteru’s grueling practices.

But more concerningly, no one was spared from Oikawa’s ambition. Not even himself.

Your attention honed in on the captain, on his face. It was such a subtle movement, just a twitch of a muscle in his jaw and you knew. You knew he was in pain. You knew that he wasn’t going to stop either. You dragged yourself up from the bench, shoving your hands in the track pant’s pockets as you walked to stand beside the Coach, “Sir, I think you need to pull Oikawa out, his knee looks like it’s bothering him again.”

Coach Nobuteru turned to you, brow lifting in question, “You’re sure?”

You nodded absently, your focus still on the captain as he practiced another set, “I’m sure.”

The man sighed deeply, running a leathery hand over his face before muttering quietly to himself, “Damnit, Oikawa.” He shook his head, exhaustion limning his features, “I’ve talked to him about this twice now. Obviously, he doesn’t seem to be getting the message.” Nobuteru paused to watch the captain that hid his pain so well, too well, “Talk to him for me, will you? Just in case though, tell him I said I’ll kick him off the team if he keeps this crap up. And that I’m being serious.”

“Of course,” you nodded once more, crossing your arms against your chest as Nobuteru blew his whistle to call Oikawa over.

The captain immediately heeded the order, tossing the ball to Iwaizumi and jogging over to the sidelines with a flushed face, sweat dripping down his temple. He paused in front of Nobuteru, “Yes sir?”

Nobuteru, in turn, only said, “Y/n.”

Oikawa’s brows knit in confusion, his head gently tilting to the side as he turned his attention on you. God, you wanted nothing more to take a picture of that ridiculous expression on his face and mock him endlessly, but you had more important matters to attend to. “Let’s go,” you sighed in exasperation, grabbing his forearm and dragging him along behind you. Oikawa was about to protest, though one look from you and he managed to keep his mouth shut until you entered the athletics room at the back of the gym.

“So eager to get me alone are you?” He nearly purred as you removed your hand hastily from where it had been gripping him, the warmth from his muscles receding from your hand at the loss of contact.

You turned on your heel to look at him, having to tilt your head back greatly as he was standing so close, too close, “How long were gonna go without saying anything?”

The captain merely tilted his head in that way he always did, _like a fucking puppy_ , you thought. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shrugged in feigned ignorance, sweat still gleaming on his body under the fluorescent lights.

Your arms found themselves folding against you like they always did, clicking your tongue once before speaking again, “Sit down.” The command was clear enough, earning a raise of an eyebrow from Oikawa, but, nonetheless, he listened. You watched him sit on a plastic chair that had been shoved to the side, his face straining to hide the pain that you knew was tearing at him. Once he’d settled in the seat, you leaned against a table opposite him, “Now, stand back up.”

The look he gave you this time was one of incredulity, even a flicker of irritation, though he quickly let it fall and replaced it with a curious smile, “Since when did you get so demanding?”

“Stand up.” You only repeated, your voice deadpan.

He stared at you, those brown eyes of his burning into yours, the forced smile finally gone. “What’s this all about?”

You pushed off the table, crossing the distance between the two of you until there was simply a few feet of air to separate the tension. Even sitting, Oikawa was nearly your height, but that didn’t stop you from practically looking down your nose at him--payback for all the other times he’d made you feel so small, all the playful smiles you had never returned, the flirtatious quips you’d caught and shredded apart as their godforsaken manager. It’s not that you hated him, you could never hate him, but something about him brought out a side of you that you hadn’t been aware even existed. A side of you that yearned to beat him in every way possible.

His antagonizing tended to have that effect on people.

Though, with you, he’d always been careful to never quite cross the line between teasing and provoking, but that didn’t keep him from toeing it.

Since the day you had walked into the gym alongside Coach Nobuteru, all lack of expression and calculating stares, the only thing Oikawa could think of was how you would look with a smile. Or even a frown, or laughing, crying, raging, anything but the bored and uninterested composure you always steeled yourself to be. And the first time he had made you smile, albeit it wasn’t intentional on his end, you had become his newest addiction--a drug that he would never get enough of, a high that he would gladly let overcome his senses. In that moment, he had decided that the painful bruising on his ass from slipping on the gym floors, because _someone_ hadn’t mopped up a puddle of spilt water, was absolutely worth it to to be the one to draw that smile from you.

But he would never tell you that.

And here you were, standing in front of him, only the two of you, like the gods had delivered you on a silver platter just for him.

Too bad you looked like you were about to tear his head off.

He watched you reach a hand down to him, his eyes widening ever so slightly. You didn’t notice how his breathing quickened, how his heart was now pulsing against his rib cage as one of your fingers found the knee covered in the white brace and pushed gingerly. If he was being completely honest, he thought your hand may have been going somewhere…else. He was also hoping that his face would be twisting with something other than absolute, _searing_ pain at your touch.

You jerked your hand back as you watched Oikawa hiss in a breath of air, his eyes squeezing shut for just a moment before catching your gaze. “ _Ow_ ,” he seethed between his teeth with a tight, mocking smile, chest still rising in small pants.

And you simply cocked your head, “You’re a fucking idiot, Oikawa.”

Your words may have stung more if he didn’t already know that most of your threats and sneers were empty promises and didn’t hold any true ire. But, nonetheless, it still stung.

You shook your head, walking away from the injured captain to put together an ice pack, “You can’t keep doing this to yourself--pushing your body to the breaking point every damn time.” The cooler’s biting air nipped at your skin, sending the hair on your arms raising at the contact.

He watched you intently, though you couldn’t see with your back turned to him, as you placed some ice in a plastic baggy before wrapping it in a paper towel and taking your spot in front of him once again. You were careful, oh so careful, when you placed the ice on his knee, holding it there until his own hand came to take over the job, the tips of his fingers brushing yours when you pulled away. The warmth of him was shocking against the ice pack, like a living paradox.

Truth be told, he had wanted you to hold it there for him, not because he was lazy or felt entitled to your aid, but because he wanted to savor the way you handled him, like you cared. Did you tend to the others like this? Fussing over them, huffing in irritation, all while your hands could not have been in more opposition to your harsh words? He wanted to believe that this was only for him, wanted to think that someone cared enough about him to make him see the unsparing truth, besides Hajime, of course.

You pulled up a chair in front of him, leaning back with your arms folded to their familiar position, sighing gently. He hadn’t said a word yet, so you continued, “I know the loss against Karasuno was hard on you, but I won’t say that I completely understand. Because I can’t. I can’t truly begin to understand how its affected you because I’m not _you_ , so I won’t pretend to understand to humor you.”

His attention had diverted from his knee and back to you, no more was the façade on his pretty face. It was utterly blank. For the first time since you had met the boy, it was truly and utterly blank.

And, yet, he was still beautiful, more even. You hated to admit it, but there was no denying that truth.

“But you can’t keep doing this.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, so quiet Oikawa felt he had to lean in a bit to hear you. Your fingers had already begun to pick at your nails, your poor cuticles, as an attempt to distract yourself. You were used to him looking at you, it's not like you shied away from eye contact when it came to Oikawa, after all, you saw him everyday, put up with him everyday, snapped at him _nearly_ everyday--Iwaizumi and you had an unspoken agreement of rotating who played babysitter for the easily distracted captain--but you were not used to him looking at you like _this_ , like for once in his life the need for utmost seriousness had finally garnered his thoughts. Like you were the only thing that needed his attention in this moment.

Your anxious ministrations on your nails were halted by a large hand covering both of yours. And when you looked up to the owner of that hand, you were taken aback by the intense gaze he now wore, though your own expression was quite neutral.

“I’m sorry.” Oikawa said, quiet and assuring. There was so much more he wanted to say, so fucking much he had been wanting to say since…well, he didn’t quite know since when.

You gave him a gentle smile and he felt the crack within him splinter even further, climbing up to his heart, a threat of what was to come.

“You don’t need to apologize but just…” You faltered, trying to find the right words. You’ve never seen Oikawa so serious, so deadly serious and you didn’t know whether it relieved or unnerved you, “Just promise me--promise me you won’t keep doing this.” _Promise me that you’ll stop hurting yourself, Oikawa, fucking promise me._

He made no effort to retract his hand, and you made no effort to remove it as he spoke, “I promise.” Because for you, he would keep it.

There was a beat of silence after his response, your hands still touching, still resting comfortably beneath his while they sat on your lap. It was odd, really, to just be sitting here like this, as if it was the most normal thing for the both of you. Because Oikawa couldn’t stand silence and you knew this, he would fill every pocket of quiet with either his own voice or conversation of another person. And, yet, here he was, here _you_ were, sitting in the deafening hush.

The tension became overbearing at some point, you didn’t know how long you both had stayed in that position but it had felt like too long. “Well,” you began, slowly pulling your hands out from underneath his, “are you gonna be able to walk yourself back to the gym or do I need to get someone?” There was absolutely no way you would be able to support his weight for the distance back.

That all too familiar smile spread across his lips, any lingering seriousness pushed to the edges, “I made it here without any help, didn’t I?”

You shook your head mildly, chuckling to yourself, “You were still high on adrenaline, of course you could walk fine.”

But the thing was, you didn’t want him to leave. Not yet. And he didn’t look like he planned on getting up anytime soon.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't realize that my own writing could hurt me but, ouch, it kind of did...Anyways, I wrote this little scenario as a compromise for my last one considering that my last work was supposed to be an Oikawa/reader but that didn't happen. Hope yall enjoyed slightly angsty/serious Oikawa bc honestly it was a little difficult to write him in a serious tone while also keeping him IN character but I think it was totally worth it. Also I just know that you have some sort of assignment to finish so stop procrastinating and do it. Please. I’m only telling you this for your own good. And also bc I’m currently procrastinating my own assignments :D
> 
> Other Socials  
> Tumblr: demxnscous


End file.
